


Four Times Amanda Grayson Thanked Jim Kirk Before They Met

by PurpleHydrangeas



Series: Qual se tu? [1]
Category: Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, BAMF James T. Kirk, BAMF Spock, Canon Jewish Character, F/M, Female James T. Kirk, Genius Jim, Kid James Kirk, Kid Spock, T'hy'la, Tarsus IV, Vulcan, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Language, mentions of child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleHydrangeas/pseuds/PurpleHydrangeas
Summary: Amanda didn't see the issue with T'hy'las, and she celebrated when such an unusual bond manifested for Spock. As she saw things, Jemima Kirk had given Spock choices in life, given him the space to discover his own path, and develop his own identity. Spock had done the work of building his own life, but Jim had provided him insight into other ways of being, other ways of doing, that harked to Vulcan's most sacred ideals. Amanda vowed she would never forget those gifts. As a mother, a life freely and authentically lived was all she wanted for her child.





	Four Times Amanda Grayson Thanked Jim Kirk Before They Met

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Amanda Palmer for the borrowing of her turn of phrase. As far as I'm concerned, Amanda Grayson is the OG BAMF Amanda and I don't think she'd mind. I just couldn't help connecting two very famous Amandas in this way, both who are uniquely their own people.
> 
> I just wanted to do Female!Kirk because my head canon is that her name would be Jemima, largely because in my head, female John Watson is Jane. Yes, I spend time thinking about these things. Doesn't everyone?
> 
> I'm not well versed in Vulcan and it shows. It's been a while since I engaged with it. The terms used should be clear contextually, but if not, check out the Vulcan Language Dictionary.

_I: Age Seven Koon’ul_

Amanda Grayson was not unlike most human mothers. She lived on Vulcan and adapted to her adopted homeland to the degree that she taught cultural classes for the Vulcan Diplomatic Corps. She was proud of her efforts. In her heart, however, she was as much a human mother as anyone. 

She watched her son carefully. She knew him. She would fight for his interests, no matter what Sarek’s position demanded or her heart wished. Her very human heart was breaking.

She stood before T’Pau with an impassive face and an aching heart in the grove that had held sacred ceremonies for his ancestors for thousands of years. Her baby had not yet reached eight years old. He could not drive, or vote, or make medical decisions. And yet, he knelt before T’Pau, ready to merge his heart, his beautiful and wonderful heart, and his mind, his brilliant and wondrous mind that had only recently realized that Vulcans didn’t dress up on Purim and could solve quadratic equations, forevermore to a little girl he didn’t know and didn’t have the capacity to love. 

T’Pau began to chant as T’Pring’s hands reached with childlike ease to touch a sacred object, an orb of crystal she herself had placed her fingers upon as a grown woman with two doctorates, a nuanced view of the world, and the legal ability to bind herself to Sarek of her own free will without her Mom and Dad giving consent. They had given her their joy, and that was something she could not offer Spock. 

Amanda’s eyes closed heavily as T’Pau invited Spock to cleanse his own energies and calm his mind in preparation for _Koon'ul_. Her heart hammered. She buried a daughter and a son, lost three pregnancies, and now her only living son was—

He was going to be connected to a little girl who had pushed him down in the dirt and called him a _viltah_ more than once. 

Amanda would one day loathe herself for it, but she did her best to tune out T’Pau. She had years of practice, and tuned out her husband’s grandmother effortlessly as she looked out the mountain behind her child. She couldn’t stand here and listen to her son be pressured into this. She had the mad urge to grab him, to dash forward, tear him away from the altar as T’Pau engaged in a superficial meld not unlike his very recent _than’tha_. She had the mad urge to remind them all that she was Amanda fucking Grayson and take him to the US with her mother and just...

Amanda let go of those mad urges. She knew Spock needed his community. She knew he needed his home, his extended family, his beloved I-Chaya. He was Vulcan in physiology and she would not place him in a tactile world that was not prepared to understand his needs. She would not remove him from the only world he had ever known. He had been, despite her deep pain, raised to believe this was right for him. It was not the only way, but his culture had taught him this was the best way. She had played no small part in all that had led to this moment. 

Sarek stiffened  almost imperceptibly beside her, as though he too was ready to spring into action. Amanda let herself become once more aware of her surroundings. It was done. She fought hard not to think of her own bonding, of the joy, of the freedom, of the free will, that had totally suffused the rightness in her soul. 

Amanda blinked hard, when she heard T’Pau clarify herself, “There will be no bond begun here today. _S'chn T'gai Spohkh, t’sa-fu Sarek, t’sa-fu Skon_ , has a _t’hy’la._ The fates will guide his bond. Mortals cannot. Logic cannot.”

The temperature seemingly dropped ten degrees as T’Pring scrambled back, looking at Spock as though he had two heads. She knew better than to be at an altar with a boy who was not her promised one. Pola welcomed her daughter to her side as though Spock had somehow deeply insulted T’Pring. No doubt Velik was already exploring how he would logically explain this to better T’Pring’s chances at a secondary match.  

Amanda, for her part, found every adult eye in the grove circle was looking at her. Amanda stared boldly back as she broke the circle to make room for her son between his parents. No doubt they blamed her, his human mother. for the uniqueness of his katra. Amanda saw this unexpected person who had just entered their lives as a gift. 

Spock stepped back between them. Sarek shifted to provide him room. The gesture was explicitly clear. He would not remonstrate his son for this happening. Spock had no control over the ways Fate had shaped his soul, but she knew that many Vulcan families had trouble with _t’hy’las_ , even as they were sacred in the Pre-Reform days.

Ever the diplomat’s wife, Amanda turned to Pola and offered, “Would you care for some refreshments? This surely is news we must process with all due logic and focus.”

Velik refused her offer by addressing Sarek. Amanda was well used to being ignored. She used this time to drop her eyes, and seek out Spock. “We thank you for the offer of hospitality, but it would be illogical to remain as there will be no unity amongst us today.”

“Live long and prosper.” Velik addressed the group, accepted T’Pau’s correct nod, and looked to Sarek for a response.  

“Peace and long life.” Sarek replied flatly, as someone stepped forward to lead them towards the departure point. Amanda saw the tips of Sarek’s ears twitch as they did only when he knew his wife to have been insulted. 

 Amanda looked down at her son and sank to her knees before him, as T’Pring and her family moved out of earshot. “You have not done anything wrong. This bond, my darling, is as Vulcan as the very Forge. Your great-grandfather wrote all about them.”

That his human mother rejoiced in her heart that her son had a choice of his own to make in the future was beside the point. She longed to cry and dance and scream and run wild through the streets screaming that her son, her Spock, was a jewel amongst Vulcans, and now, they were forced to see it, accept it, too. 

“Mother—” Spock’s voice was level, but Amanda knew him well enough to hear the shock in his voice. He had long been educated on the rarity and the meaning of _t’hy'las._ “I do not know of anyone whom I would consider a friend such as the texts have described.”

“One day you shall.” Amanda promised, wishing with all her might that she could press a kiss between his eyebrows, as she had done in his babyhood. “You must simply trust in that truth.”

In the meantime, Amanda looked up to her husband and let her lips tilt upward ever so gently. His gaze softened as the truth passed between them in a single glance. It seemed even the very fiber of the universe knew better than to ignore the will of Amanda Grayson, T'sai D’H’riset. 

Amanda straightened, and looked to T’Pau. “Ko’mekh-il, it appears we have much to discuss.”

“Indeed.” T’Pau inclined her head as she stepped down from the altar, her ceremonial robes settling imperially around her as she gazed down at Spock. Though he was afraid of his great-grandmother, he stood correctly, and met her eyes before dipping his head with difference.

T’Pau gestured for Spock to meet her gaze anew before she addressed him directly, “Spock, I would have a vow from you.”

Spock spoke in a measured tone. Amanda saw his fingers twitch, and knew that he was resisting putting his hands behind his back, as was the typical stance he would have adopted outside of a ceremonial occasion. “I will promise you all that is mine to offer, _orfik-kosu._ ”

“You know that your chief duty in life is to your clan.” T’Pau reminded him, though he needed no reminder. That truth had been impressed upon Spock from his birth, no matter how much had she tried to temper it with an understanding of self-love. It was a reminder for Amanda, a reminder that beneath the logic, it was familial bonds that defined their worldview, “Your _t’hy’la_ is _k'war'ma'khon_. I ask that you honor them in thought and action as you would honor any member of this clan.”

Spock, as solemn as he had once been beside T’Pring, intoned, _“Nash-veh ugau.”_

It was a vow. _This one promises._ Amanda noted that Spock was looking, anew, at the candle that burned on the altar. T’Pring’s candle had been removed by T’Pau’s own hand. His candle yet burned. It was shining as surely as his words. 

Amanda knew t’hy’las were sometimes romantically involved. She knew that sometimes they were simply very good friends. She had not met any couples of either type, but she had read enough to know about the varying elements in such a bond. She knew that Spock’s bonding had been halted today because he could not take a wife in any fashion without the blessing of, or at least the lack of objection, from of his _t’hy’la._

It was not because this person was their promised spouse, though they were offered that legal status quite easily. His present bond did not preclude a marriage bond in the future. Perhaps one day T’Pring would be her son’s bonded. It mattered not, so long as Spock had the freedom to choose. If he came to choose T’Pring of his own free will with the support of the one who would know him best, well, then she would welcome T’Pring with open arms. 

This person, whom Spock’s _katra_ yearned for with every fiber of his being, had given her son the freedom of choice in his life. This person had provided Spock with a way for Spock to be his own person. They had given Spock the reasons to seek out one who would accept and honor all of him. Amanda hoped that it would, in many ways, also be a journey of self-acceptance.  

Amanda too promised in her heart that when she met this person, whomever they were, that she would honor their role in doing what she could not for her son. Amanda vowed that if this child ever needed her, she would be there, with every ounce of her will. In her heart, she made room for this son or daughter she did not yet know, and wondered if a good mind adept could help Spock find his _t’hy’la_. It would be nice for him to have a friend. 

 

 

 

_II: Age 13: Kahs-wan_

Amanda blinked, and nearly poured the steaming water in the can on her foot. She spun as she faced her son, “I beg your pardon?”

“Apologies are neither required nor expected, Mother. I have not taken offense at your reaction.” Spock replied, petting I-Chaya as they stood in the shaded areas of the garden. “I understand your need to process this news emotionally to arrive at its essential logic.”

That hadn’t at all been the essence of her words, and he knew it well. Amanda set down the watering can, and gestured towards the benches, “Are you satisfied with this choice, Spock? It is yours to make, and I have done my best to stay out of it.”

“It is impossible to stay out of a square of opposition, Mother. It is not a physical construct.” Spock replied, his arms falling into place behind his back as they walked along the manicured paths in the rocky garden. 

Amanda understood the emotion behind his words. When stressed, he fell into extreme logic and sorted his thoughts that way. Idioms were beyond him when he was trying to keep his thoughts in hand. Amanda did not know if this was an actual stress reaction or because he felt they should be beyond him, largely because they were beyond most Vulcans who had not engaged in discourse with a human.

 “I am aware.” Amanda settled in the bench, and threw I-Chaya’s ball. He rumbled after it, after giving her a very telling look. She was not, said his lovely eyes, to throw it. She was merely to pass it to him when and only when he required it. “I would ask that you share your thought process with me, as you deem appropriate.”

“Mother, as I am not yet an adult, you need not respect my mental boundaries as you do.” Spock replied, his correction of Vulcan convention gentle, as it always was when it came to her missteps. He had never quite caught on that they were entirely intentional. She was the Ambassador’s wife and a trained educator. She knew her adopted people’s customs, and she knew when to break them for her son’s best interest, “Nevertheless…”

I-Chaya came thumping back to the bench. He huffed gently at Amanda. As was their custom, she passed him a treat from her voluminous pocket. Amanda patted him on the head as he munched upon his bounty, knowing it best to give Spock time to speak. 

Spock elaborated as the suns rose in the sky, marking the time that she soon would need to head indoors for her own safety. “I accept that the _Kahs-wan_ is the ritual process through which Vulcans come of age. I am not fully Vulcan, and do not feel that I could properly process elements of the rituals.”

“Spock, are you saying that you do not wish to—” _be held down while your father cuts into your skin with a ceremonial blade without the benefit of blockers after weeks of near starvation and isolation,_ “to finish your _Kahs-wan_ classes?”

“Yes, with the understanding that I do not feel it logical to undertake the _Kahs-wan_.” Spock paused only so long as to move his feet for I-Chaya’s comfort.  “It has the stated purpose of strengthening clan bonds while enabling a young person to assert their adulthood.”

Amanda dared not so much as breathe or speak. She knew well how challenging this must be for Spock. All his life, he had worked to make their clan proud of him, to prove himself a logical and strong heir amidst xenophobic tendencies. 

And yet, here he was stepping back from something that was expected because it was not right for him. He was following his own path, carving his own road out of the bedrock of his convictions and insights. She knew of no better marker of adulthood. 

 Spock clasped his hands together in his lap, “I have reasoned, based on my evaluation of the facts, that it would do neither for me. I suspect this may be based in the variables found in my human heritage.”

Amanda found her eyes drawn to Spock’s own face. His eyes, so like her own, sought her out in a beseeching fashion. Amanda realized that he had come to her, not only because she was his mother, but because she would innately understand the emotions and perspectives holding him back from taking the step that was unquestioned by his peers.

For a scant second, Spock looked uncertain. She wondered if she should offer assistance, but before she could do so, he was speaking. “I have spoken to Grandfather Grayson. He has agreed with my positing that I should, like the children of your brother and sister, undertake the training for an alternate ceremony. I am given to understand that a Bar Mitzvah also marks coming of age for males, as a Bat Mitzvah would do were I female.”

Spock needed facts. He did not need a hug. He needed validation through facts and the concrete knowledge that many humans would see a Bar Mitzvah as something vastly preferable to a Kahs-wan. She would provide her child with what he needed, irrespective of her impulses. “Yes, it would. It is not a requirement to be considered Jewish, but it is a celebration of a child’s budding maturity and their ability to stand for their own convictions and choices.”

“I have done much to prove myself as a Vulcan.” Spock declared, “According to my data, I have favored my Vulcan heritage 96.832% of the time. However, in this case, I feel it more fitting to honor the ways of my human tribe.” 

Amanda did not make a joke about how Spock had just made a reference to his heritage. It had not been intentional. She wished it had been, somewhere inside of her. Although she had worked very hard to imbue in him a sense of Jewish identity here on Vulcan, she had long ago let go of the hopes that he would want to explore that facet of his identity in a personal way.

“I would be pleased to offer my support should you request it when speaking to your father.” Amanda offered, knowing that she would not need to help Sarek come around to this decision their son had made. He himself had misgivings about various rituals. He could not harm Spock. He would he would sooner sacrifice his _katra_ to the wind than hurt Spock in any fashion.  He had plainly said as much. And yet, he planned to act as his father had once done because Sarek believed it be what Spock would have him do. 

“No, Mother.” Spock rose, “I will go and see him now. I informed you first because I did not wish for you to speak to Grandfather Grayson before you heard of my decision from me.”

“That was very logical, Spock.” Amanda noted, inclining her head to hide a gentle smile, “You honor the teachings of your ancestors with integrity.”

“As do you, Mother.” Spock flashed the ta’al, and headed inside. 

Amanda watched him walk away, before remarking to I-Chaya, “How would you like to take a little star trip to California, sir?”

I-Chaya huffed. His yellowish eyes clearly indicated that he did not intend to move from this very shade until his dinner was severed with precisely the right amount of water on the side. 

“Well, you might be right, I-Chaya. The place would fall down without you, wouldn’t it?”

I-Chaya blinked. That was settled, then. Amanda headed inside to join Spock and Sarek. She felt a zing of relief and joy and pride rush through her bond, and spun in a wide circle in the gardens. Sometimes, the twists and turns of life made her realize just lucky she was. 

They had raised a strong, thoughtful, young man with convictions. 

* * *

By the time they had docked in San Fransisco, Spock had brushed up on the final portions of his reading lists, practiced and practiced, attended every meeting thanks to the wonders of long-distance communication satellites, and reviewed totally superfluous notes he’d taken over the course of the months leading up to his birthday. He’d taken this seriously, which Amanda had expected, but he’d seemed to grow somehow in exploring his connections to humanity in ways she had not expected. 

Amanda tried not to think about the conversation he’d had last week with Stonn and T’Pring because it made her rage even now. She was phrasing that diplomatically, given that they had told her son that it was all well and good he would never be a Vulcan man, as no Vulcan woman would have to suffer the blight of a bond with him. 

Spock, according to his own telling, had simply reminded T’Pring that her family had worked very hard to secure the bond between them. He also reminded her that her clan had inquired about breaking Spock’s bond in the future. Spock had informed her that would never occur, even if his only other option was a Klingon warlord. 

Amanda applauded his grace under pressure. After finishing the explication of his day, Spock had merely gone along and packed his suitcase. He had no concerns about missing school. His school had a great deal of practice in accommodating his trips in the capacity as the ambassador’s son. He was a seasoned traveler. 

Thusly, Amanda could not help the yelp of shock that escaped her mouth when Spock fell over when the shuttle landed. he tried to rise from his seat and exit the shuttle. He hit the floor of the shuttle as though his knees had simply given out on his gangly legs. 

 Gathering her wits, Amanda prevented his case from landing on top of him. Setting the suitcase on the seat, she spoke, “The gravity is different much less heavy here, Spock.”

Sarek assessed Spock as he clambered gracefully to his feet. 

Spock dusted off his jacket, his long fingers trembling as he did so.“I am well, Mother. The shift is mental.” Spock eyes glinted with a sheen she had never seen on his face before, and he spoke without censuring himself, “I am confident that my _t’hy’la_ is on Terra. I sense their presence in my mind with a great deal more clarity, which suggests that the distance between us has narrowed significantly. It also explains my autonomic reactions during the trip, namely my heart rate and respiration rate.”

Spock gulped the air around him carefully. Amanda realized with a sort of shocked and joyous clarity that, whoever they were, Spock was a bit infatuated with his _t’hy’la._ She’d suspected, of course, but he’d never said. But now, now, he’d brushed up against their mind more deeply and was either a tiny bit high off of the experience, or a bit lovestruck. She thought happily that it was indeed likely both. 

Amanda once again mentally thanked his _t’hy’la._ They had given Spock the space to be open to the idea of romantic emotion, and Spock found enough confidence and rightness within himself to explore it. They were growing up before her very eyes, and seemed to be good for each other. Amanda couldn’t shake the idea that his _t’hy’la_ was about his age. Perhaps, as Sarek had long ago suggested, she was cooking up an ideal _t’hy’la_ to fuel fanciful daydreams. Still, even in her daydreams, she had never dared to hope that Spock would be a gangly teenager turning green over another being. It was more than she had ever dared to wish for in his life, one governed by logic and duty. 

His face was bright and hopeful until Awidat  entered their compartment with all the grace of a herd of disgruntled sehlats. Amanda could have strangled him, what with how quickly Spock clammed up. Awidat had barely opened his mouth to blabber on before Spock was shifting and clearing his face of anything but polite indifference, “Ambassador, we have a schedule to keep if we are to arrive with enough time—”

Sarek interrupted his attache, if only to give Spock a moment to fully compose himself, “Yes, Awidat. I am aware of the timetable. I am also aware that the timetable exists to facilitate our aims. We do not exist to facilitate the timetable.”

“As you say, _Osu_.” Awidat agreed, stepping out of the transport to await them in the ground shuttle. 

Amanda heard what Sarek did not say. There were things in his life that came before his obligations to his people, chief among them their son. Instead, she murmured to Spock, “This will be a good time for you both to deepen the bond and feel one another, Spock.”

“Mother—” Though Spock’s tone was level, the tips of his ears grew as verdant as his cheeks. “It is not something for discussion, though I honor you for the intention behind your words.”

“As you say, darling.” Amanda wrinkled her nose at Sarek behind Spock as their son snapped to his normal posture and deplaned with all the exactitude of a Starfleet Officer. “You might even meet while you’re here.”

She decided to pretend she didn’t see Spock almost trip over the threshold. 

Sarek’s hand was gentle on her elbow as they shared the joy of this moment.  Their son was growing up and thinking about others in that unique sort of way. Amanda softly whispered under her breath, “He’s at that very special age when a boy has only one thing on his mind.”

“Mother, I am Vulcan in my precepts.” Spock responded, feet ahead of them, “I assure you at no point in my existence have I ever considered homicide.” 

Sarek, however, was more than willing to be remark upon the surroundings as they exited the shuttle and stepped into the Terran atmosphere as they headed to the transport, “Fresh air, the scent of pine…”

Spock pulled up the zipper on his leather jacket. Already he was likely freezing cold in the foggy morning, “I do not understand your preference for holovids that do nothing to educate you, Mother.” 

Amanda slid into the transport gently as Spock continued, “Nor do I understand Father’s willingness to quote the same vids. The pastime is nonsensical.”

Sarek joined them inside, and waited for Awidat to shut the door and seal them into the passenger space before he spoke, “I assure you, your mother is all is that is logical and sensible.”

Amanda said nothing. There were some things a boy didn’t need to know about his parents. She just smiled. There was nothing more logical than binding yourself to the one person you could not imagine the universe without. Spock would learn that lesson on his own, of that she had a great deal of hope. 

After all, after seeing his face as his mind brushed against that of his _t’hy’la_ , Amanda was certain he had just fallen a little bit in love with the mind and _katra_ and heart that so complimented his own.   

 

_III: Age 17: T’lema_

Amanda had never been so adamant in her entire life but she would see this done by nightfall or she would die trying, “Sarek, you will convince Spock to see a healer.”

“You would ask me to do that which you cannot?” Sarek replied, calmly and carefully reviewing his evening briefings, “Amanda, I possess no sway with Spock that you cannot claim thrice over.” 

“He is ill.” Amanda repeated herself, mentally cataloging Spock’s voracious appetite, his inability to meditate and sleep, his hyper-focus and hyper-awareness, his wan and pale face. She was no mathematician but she knew that all of these things added up to a huge issue. He seemed to be fading by the moment, and had been for some time. 

“He has assured me his experiences are the by-product of a long-distance bond growing into maturity.” Sarek glanced to the door to make sure Spock was not listening. 

Amanda thought Sarek was being too understanding. She was of half a mind to compel him to see a healer through subterfuge and force. Sarek had cautioned her not to become too involved. He was concerned that Spock would descend into madness if he was stressed even the slightest amount more. Amanda’s terror mounted day by day. 

“You recall as well as I how reticent he was to discuss his _vin-storaya_. That, in time, he understood to be a natural biological experience that occurs in Vulcans and Terrans alike. It is unlikely he will discuss distress brought on by the distance, nor such private experiences.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, “Yes, because watching him fade away is exactly like explaining sexual maturity and reminding him that exploring his own body is healthy.” Amanda continued, still to this day wondering where on Vulcan he had gotten the notion that Vulcans didn’t do anything sexual outside of Ponn Farr, nor that his entirely natural pubescence was an aberration. “We must press him to explore the roots of his experiences. It may be that he is unwilling to progress into the bond or develop it mentally. He is shy.”

“Shy?” Sarek quirked an eyebrow at her. Any other time, Amanda would have indulged his feigned innocence, “Spock is a very socially competent young male in several cultures. I am sure he is very transparent with his _t’hy’la_ , as befits their mental unity.”

“Sarek.” Amanda sighed. He turned into a stuttering puddle of uptight goo when anyone so much as referenced his _t’hy’la,_ and they knew it. 

“It is possible that he is moving too slowly towards a deepening of the bond he shares with his counterpart in an effort to respect their boundaries and the issue of informed consent. He is suffering greatly and I would do all within my power to ease it. I see now the approach I have been taking is too indirect, and for that oversight I ask your forgiveness.” Sarek studied her face for a long moment as Amanda mentally assured him no such forgiveness was needed. They were as lost as the other in trying to help their son. 

Sarek replied to that last lingering thought verbally,  “We will face this as we have faced all things, my wife.”

Amanda understood. They were going to help their son. She didn’t care if he hated them for it. They were going to get him through this, even if it meant decamping for Terra until Spock was settled. They would not lose him. “Together.”

Sarek put his PADD in the locking drawer, and rose to embrace her. The fear that swirled within them faded briefly when he affirmed, “As you say, _k'diwa_.”

When Spock came downstairs, he was again wearing one of his woolen sweaters from their trip last summer, and corduroy trousers. As he accepted a plate laden with food, Amanda glanced at Sarek. There was no logic in waiting, not when their son was so absorbed in his schoolwork that he rarely left his room. 

Sarek, in Terran terms, threw Spock a softball, “Spock, as you have remained unseasonably chilled this past week, you ought to visit a healer.”

“It would be logical, Father, were I the one who is, as you say, chilled.” Spock referenced his bond in the most polite and indirect way. To speak of such things, to speak of feeling and connection, to one’s parents was the height of immaturity and indiscretion. “I assure you, I am functional.”

The lie passed from his lips with only the slightest dip of his head. Amanda knew that Vulcans did not lie. However, they could twist, turn, evade, and present words in any number of ways. His body was still functioning, that much was true, but it was not functioning optimally or healthily, to say nothing of his mind or heart. 

“Do you have a theory, Spock, or perhaps a hypothesis, as to your experiences?” Amanda was never one to shy away from the confrontation of unspoken truths, and she wanted to demand answers. 

She sipped her water as Spock accepted a plate loaded down with food, and placed his napkin in his lap. 

Amanda knew he would eat four times that amount of food, even as he wasted away. She could see the bones in his ulna and the sharp lines of his face had bypassed striking and slid into alarming. He had bruises on his arms where his too-large sweater fell back, as though he had been engaging in too much _a’sum'i_ and not enough _kheile’a_. 

“I have several.” Spock revealed, his hands trembling as he began to eat his food as though it would vanish before he consumed it, “However, none have stood up to testing against the facts, nor do they suit exploration in this setting.”

Spock paused, and Amanda knew that something had shifted. An unholy light entered Spock’s eyes as an idea crested in his mind. With concerted focus, he grabbed their attention with a single statement, “I am researching agricultural colonies, in particular Tarsus IV in my present educational module. There are elements of operations there that are not logical, nor are they up to Federation standards.”

Amanda knew he had been researching that same place for several weeks. He had compiled reports and sent them off. His communications to the Federation office there had not been returned. Amanda had observed him waiting rather intently for any sort of reply, but he had said little upon her asking him about it. She had been tempted to write herself and demand answers for her son. 

“As it is a colony of Terra, I am gratified to be able to provide to you any information you might require.” Sarek looked to her and they mutually decided this was a good an in as any to push onward, “It is of interest to me that you would select a Terran colony, and one that is so newly established. Would you like to visit the Federation office and address your concerns there?”

Amanda wanted him to go. The bond would be less stressed there, and he would have more inclinations to follow it. He was working toward entering the VSA, as his father had done before him, and the workload was immense, even for a mind such as Spock. “I would be happy to accompany you.”

“I would suggest a trip to Terra would not be amiss, Spock.” Amanda did not miss the way Spock bristled.

He snapped, “They are the source of the inaccuracies and inconsistencies I have discovered, Father. The Federation office for Interplanetary Settlement has refuted my findings without the briefest of reviews.”

“I see.” Sarek murmured, in that very tone Amanda had last heard when he’d fired sixteen people, and reorganized an entire department at the embassy because they were favoring the needs of the wealthy over those of the poor and powerless. Amanda had no doubt heads were going to roll. “Tell me of your findings. What factors of import led you to select Tarsus IV?”

Spock blinked as though he had never heard of such a question nor paused to consider it. He stared blankly at his parents, a slow whoosh of air leaving his lungs as his face shattered. “I—must—”

Spock cried out and clutched his head as his spoon clattered to his place setting. He called out words, in Standard, so quickly, Vulcan and Standard merging as he muttered. He reached out as though a being stood before him, and yelled, “ _Sanoi! Rai!_ Don’t kill them! They’re children! Run!”

His body was rigid, and looked as though he was trapped in _grazhiv-sahriv,_ as though he too was caught up in that violent wind. Amanda saw him smile for a brief second, and it stole her breath. For a single moment, he had driven back the clouds in his mind, as though he was standing beneath a warm sun of truth and wholeness as the wind stopped. “Can you see me, too? You have built many walls. I’m awake this time, too. _Shon-ha-lock,_ of course. Can it be anything else?”

Spock was left shaking with the force of his truth as he asserted to the person only he saw, “You are not dying, Jemima.”

Amanda fought back tears. She was watching the bond between them scream because Jemima was dying, and her soul was reaching out for Spock’s in an effort to—

She had read about this, but to see it was unthinkable. 

Amanda bit her lip to still her tears as Spock surfaced on a sob, his visions fading. 

“Spock.” Amanda was terrified as he trembled. She had to steel her hands to keep them from visibly shaking as she reached out gently towards reach out to her shaking son. Her touch had never failed to make him feel safe. “What did you see?”

Spock spilled his water glass as he shoved back from his chair and away from her touch. He began to pace as he muttered. Sarek held up his hand to ask her to give their child a moment. He knew what it was to be a Vulcan on the edge of control and on the precipice of irrationality. 

Amanda remained in her chair, knowing that if she acted, he would surely bolt. This was the first breakthrough she could recall in weeks. 

Spock had one query for his father, “How quickly can we leave? I cannot imagine why I did not put it all together. It has been staring me in the face for weeks.” Spock began to speak quickly, crying out about facts and conclusions, horrible conclusions that chilled her blood. He’d thought the colony was embezzling money, not harming citizens. He’d thought his _t’hy’la_ angry at him because of the tone of their interactions, not blocking him out and trying to protect him from her pain and suffering. 

“ _Sa-fu_ —” Sarek’s eyebrow rose in sympathy, “If there is a massacre taking place, you cannot simply go—”

Amanda knew they had no choice. Spock was not prepared to survive a dramatic break, and Jemima’s death was going to kill him if they didn’t do something. Irrespective of his bonds, they had a duty to everyone on Tarsus IV. Rising quickly, she flew on steady feet to her office, and hailed T’Pau. 

It was answered on the first alert. Amanda spoke without raising a ta’al. “ _Ko’mekh-il_ , I apologize for hailing you without sufficient notice.”

T’Pau held up a hand, “Are you calling in regards to Spock? If so, I will forgo my plans and hasten to aid him.” 

“I thank you.” Amanda swallowed, wishing she could give into her emotions, but knowing that she needed to do anything else, “We are undertaking immediate transport to Tarsus IV. We must notify Starfleet. The colonists are in grave danger. I am aware that there is mass starvation and the ongoing murder of children, though I cannot speak to specifics.”

T’Pau called out to two of her aides, and issued quick instructions in sharp tones. The screen cleared, and T’Pau reappeared, “A full compliment of vessels are being rerouted there, as is a medical ship with humanitarian aid. I will expect to hear from you after you lift off.”

Amanda promised as much, ending the video and audio feed just as she heard the crash of dishes and the horrible sounds of sobs ripping from Spock’s throat as agony tore through her bond with Sarek. When she returned to the dining room, she found Sarek sitting on the floor with their son, who was sobbing silently. 

“Forgive me, Spock.” Sarek whispered, “I beg your forgiveness, though I have no right to ask for it. I vow to you, we will go.”

“Ten minutes.” Amanda declared, knowing even now Evekh was acting as their steward and arranging the transport with T’Pau’s own staff, “We’re going to find her.”

Amanda owed Jemima that much. She had given Spock so much. She was a child, a child Amanda had carried in her heart for years. Amanda refused to bury another daughter. She would not do it, not while their breath in her body. 

_IV: Age 17: flakosh-glaribek_

Spock stood on the bridge when they entered Tarsus IV’s atmosphere, cloaked and ready for a surprise advance. He had spent the entire journey in a healing trance, leaving Amanda to do what she might to prepare for the sights that awaited them. Sarek had informed her of a great deal of details that turned her stomach and made her blood boil. He had engaged in a brief meld with Spock and brushed up against the things Jemima had tried for so long to hide. It seemed she had only let down the walls she’d erected in order to save others. 

“Amanda,” Sarek’s dark eyes were beseeching, “I would ask that you stay with Spock at all times. I cannot predict with any certitude what he may do. I will be required to assist in evacuation efforts.”

Amanda nodded, brushing her fingers along his palm as they stood closely together, watching Spock as he stared out into the Black, seeing things that were not in front of him, speaking under his breath to Jemima. Amanda knew well that Spock’s objective was to find Jemima. To that end, Spock wore nondescript Starfleet blacks underneath his faux-leather jacket. He was not supposed to be here, but Amanda knew no one would stop him. 

Amanda therefore resolved to aid him where she might, and stay out of his way unless he was on the edge of self-harm. Spock would steamroll her and wouldn’t see a thing wrong with it. It was hell to see the suffering in his eyes, and pure anguish to see that suffering solidify into a dark resolve. 

This resolve only grew as they went planetside. Spock would not wait for an all-clear. Amanda watched him run through the barriers on the dock, shoving with purpose past armed Starfleet officers. Amanda kept her gaze level and her gait Vulcan as she followed her son. There was desolation and death everywhere, even as 4,000 people lived in ignorant comfort in the nearby city.

“Spock!” Amanda called gently, breaking out into a run as he barreled into the bustling Starfleet office that was being set up in a vacant agricultural building. “Wait!” 

He did not wait. Spock wove through the halls until he found the room he sought, leaving Amanda to follow behind, guessing desperately as to his destination. She slowed to a skidding stop when she heard his voice, “—capacity to search the databank, and therefore I refuse to accept that you cannot. It is clear you are choosing not to do it. You do not have that option.”

Amanda sucked in a hasty breath and entered the room. She took stock of the the room as the cadet gave a spluttering reply.  The temporary sign above the door flashed, ‘Databases.’ The room was devoid of anyone but a few Starfleet cadets. The room would be busy later, but these students, Amanda knew, were largely responsible for setting up the databases that would aid evacuations. They were not here to provide information, but Amanda knew provide information they would. 

Amanda reached Spock’s side as he repeated himself.“I ask you one last time to search for the forename Jemima.” Spock insisted. Amanda knew that the cadet at the desk could not hear the desperation and terror in his voice, “Last known residence, Terra. Sex: Female. Aged 15 standard years. I do not believe this beyond even your capacity, Cadet.”

Amanda nodded politely at the other cadets in the room. They were all tapping away at terminals. From what Amanda could see, they were centralizing various lists and documents. Names flashed on the screen quickly as cadets scrolled through the documents that had been able to access, though clearly that was a work in progress. Amanda wondered how many of the bearers of those names yet lived. 

“Look,” The cadet repeated, “If you’re looking for someone, you’ll have to wait for a roster. It should be available in a few days. I’m here to coordinate the development of an evacuation database, not provide access into population records. They’re sealed now.”

They were sealed because Kodos and those in his regime would stand trial. They would no doubt all be put to death. Amanda did not mourn that potentiality. What she had learned on the voyage here had made her easily consider ending Kodos herself. What she had seen upon her arrival here, the desolation and the dead bodies, the pain and the pillaging, told her she would have done it at the slightest chance. 

Spock simply moved around the desk. 

“You can’t do that! This is Starfleet property!” The cadet was on his feet in the bustling room, but his attempt at defense wasn’t fast enough. Spock pushed him out of the way as though batting a fly, and tapped at the terminal, not bothering to reply verbally. The young man reached for the input panel, but Spock outmatched him and kept him back with a single hand while he typed with the other. 

“Allow him this, Cadet.” Amanda ordered softly, when the other boy looked her way. He was loathe to call his commanding officer from wherever they were, as were many firsties. He simply needed direction after a simple training flight had been rerouted without time to drop off the cadets. “It harms none, and may save some.”

The cadet nodded. He stepped back, and gestured to another cadet with the twist of his wrist. It clearly said, “Dude, look at this!”

Had this been any other circumstance, Amanda would have wondered if Spock was indulging in a little bit of showing off. She knew better now. This was Spock on a razor’s edge, beyond what anyone thought, what what was expected. This was Spock focused on Jemima, focused on she who mattered most to him in the Universe. Work at the other terminals ceased as the others looked Spock’s way as he thundered through complex and classified databases with ease.

One cadet whistled low, and muttered under her voice, “I’ve gotten nowhere on that in three hours.”

The terminal beeped as a record was found. Amanda hoped, beyond all hope, that Jemima had been helped and taken to the makeshift hospital that was even now, filling with the fortunate ones who had been allowed to remain in the city that formed the center of Tarsus society. 

Amanda watched his face grow wan for the merest of seconds as he spun the viewing screen to face her.  Jemima Tiberia Kirk, age 15, resident of Iowa, had been on the killing list. The reason listed as the justification for the murder of a teenage girl was noted as severe allergies. Her place of death had been recorded as the stadium, in the first group of killings. Her place of rest was a mass grave they had passed over upon landing. 

“The Kelvin Baby died on Tarsus!” The cadet who had once refused Spock exclaimed in horror that sounded almost mirthful if one did not understand how some humans expressed shock, “The Kelvin Baby is dead.”

Before Amanda could so much as open her mouth, the cadet was on his knees, coughing after catching a very solid punch in the gut. He looked up at Spock, a wheeze on his breath. For her part, Amanda thought it in very bad taste to crow on about anyone’s death, especially without using her name. Irrespective of her parentage, Jemima Kirk was more than the daughter of George Kirk.

Spock stepped around the desk, ignoring the young man he’d put on the floor, looking at his mother with certitude on his face. “I cannot think why I bothered. It, as with every document I found,  contains nothing but lies.”

He left the office without a backward glance. Amanda was too bereft to do anything but nod at the cadets as they stared at her with open and unabashed sympathy. She knew very few of them had seen death or mourning up close. 

Spock hastened down the hallways towards the entrance. Amanda wondered how long they had left. She could not help but see a countdown clock in her mind. She felt very much like the young woman she had once been as T’Aria had died. Jemima Kirk had died, and Amanda knew that she would mourn her daily as she mourned T’Aria and Sybock. 

Spock seemingly read her thoughts. “She is not dead.”

“As you say.” Amanda agreed,  inclined to believe him. It occurred to her that Spock would not be walking around as he was if she had been brutally murdered weeks ago, “We will do as you discern most logical, Spock.”

“I will escort you to Father, and join the search parties.” Spock declared,  weaving through the drafty halls past empty offices that should have held food allotment offices and cooking classes, “The wilderness here is not a fitting place for you, Mother. Your skills would benefit the needs of the many, here.”

“No, Spock.” Amanda refused, drawing to a stop. She would not leave Spock. “The many will go on without my input, this once. I will be coming with you.”

“I am not a child and I do not need your protection.” Spock reached out to pull her onward. He was not rough, but he kept them moving, “I cannot say what awaits me and I do not wish you to observe it.”

“There is no mercy in a lonely death.” Amanda snapped, yanking her arm away. He had not hurt her, only shocked her. He would choose to die alone to try to spare her that pain, “I am your mother, as I remain T’Aria’s mother.”

Spock remembered T’Aria. Amanda knew it was a low blow, but she would do just about anything to force him to acknowledge his emotions and their compromised state. Spock looked as though she had slapped him as he stopped anew, “Do not bring T’Aria into a situation that has nothing to do with her.”

“You are all I have left.” Amanda reminded him, “I could no more leave you than I could leave T’Aria.”

Spock faltered as he stared into her face. He no-doubt remembered how she had shoved her way into T’Aria’s hospital room, despite the so-wisdom of the Vulcan healers, who did not believe her human mind could cope with helplessly watching the death of her child. “I bow to your wisdom, and your wishes, Mother.”

Amanda grabbed Spock’s arm, and this time, she pulled him along. She had a plan. She glided effortlessly into the room packed with starlet officers, found the XO of the Farragut, and shared a woman-to-woman look with Number One. Women in power knew one another, and they were good friends, “Number One, might I have a word with Captain Pike?”

Number One read the situation easily, and led them over to Christopher Pike with expediency. 

Amanda looked to Spock with a unspoken plea to be silent as she spoke, “Captain Pike, I have a request to make of you.”

He was the middle of a discussion with some officer, but Amanda didn’t care. She commanded and demanded his focus and attention. She got it, too. “I’m happy to help you, _T’sai_ Amanda, though I’m shocked to see you.” 

Amanda snarked back, “You might say we were in the neighborhood.” She gestured in a modulated fashion, “This is my son, Spock. He is aware of a group of survivors, and would value your assistance in locating them.”

Amanda smiled winningly, and within two minutes, they were standing on barren and cracked ground, waiting to step into a hovercar that was zooming to their side after being unloaded for their express use. 

As they waited, Amanda found it prudent to break the aching silence. Spock’s breath was coming in ragged puffs, and his eyes were rimmed in green. She did not wish to give Captain Pike too much space to study him, the only living Vulcan with tear ducts.  

“Captain Pike.” Amanda inclined her head, “I honor your willingness to lead our party.”

“T'sai Amanda,” Captain Pike nodded, his manner brisk but not unkind, “I’m always open to the unconventional, and it’s not often you find the Vulcan ambassador and his family so intimately involved in interplanetary crisis.”

“Politicians rarely stand on the front lines, this is true.” Amanda agreed as Spock headed off to the vehicle that had not yet fully slowed, “However, as we say on Vulcan, _‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.’_ We are pleased to be of service in any way possible.”

“It would be more efficient to exchange pleasantries after we have begun to drive.” Spock inserted, grabbing the door handle just as the hovercar stopped, “Time is of the essence if we are to locate Jemi—” Spock flicked a glance at the Captain, and corrected himself, “Miss Kirk.”

It was disrespectful to use Jemima’s forename without permission. Even if Spock had been given her name formally, he would not have offered it freely to someone. That choice alone was Jemima’s, and Spock honored it. 

The captain’s head recoiled, as he hopped into the driver’s seat, and faltered with the start code, “Who?”

Amanda thought it best that she explain the situation. Spock was already calibrating the mapping system, searching for the mines and caves he knew Jemima was using for safety, “My son—”

“Did you say you’re looking for Jimmy Kirk?” Captain Pike interrupted her, “Why in the hell would you be looking for Jimmy on this death planet, kid?”

“You forget yourself, Captain.” Spock bit out, “I will state the obvious. I am seeking to discover Miss Kirk’s whereabouts because she is in grave danger. And yet, you sit here chewing Terran fat with my mother.”

Pike looked ready to vomit. His face lost color as he slammed his hand down on the accelerator, “Jimmy’s on Tarsus?”

“Would I be here were she not?” Spock insisted, as they bumped along above the rocky land in a Starfleet hovercar, Spock looking into the distance, ready to guide the Captain as required. After a moment, his curiosity won out. “I have come to understand you are known to her?”

“I should have never let Winona keep custody. I should have fought her.” Captain Pike’s soft words spoke volumes to Amanda. She hardly needed to know anything else, for his spare words painted a vivid and heartbreaking picture, “She’s supposed to be on the farm in Iowa.”

“She has been on Tarsus for a significant interval, Captain.” Spock retorted, leaning back as the car kicked, “If you are indeed interested in her welfare, you have behaved most illogically in not contacting her frequently.”

“I know.” Pike agreed, seemingly surprising Spock, “I didn’t do right by Jim. I thought leaving her with her mother was the best case scenario. What do I know about raising a girl, let alone a genius with—”

Captain Pike shut his mouth very quickly. Amanda understood that Jim’s psychic abilities had no doubt been a shock to those who loved her. However, Earth was still not without its bigotry against psi-rated beings, especially humans. He would not divulge that truth. No doubt Jim had worked all her life to hide it. 

“If you meant to reveal her psi-rating, I assure you I am aware of it, and all that she has been forced to do to minimize her extraordinary gifts.” Spock changed the subject abruptly, “Head to the mountains. You are looking for a series of mining tunnels.”

Pike gaped at Spock for a moment, and then flicked his gaze towards her as if making a new connection. Amanda resisted the urge to tell him that this was Spock at his most Vulcan. “The mines are—”

“Yes, approximately 46 minutes from here by hovercar.” Spock finished, “I suggest you ignore Federation standard speed limits. You will cut the journey in half. If you are unwilling to proceed thusly, I will pilot.”

Pike challenged Spock, and raised an eyebrow towards Amanda in the rearview mirror. He understood the way of things. “I thought Vulcans didn’t break rules.”

Spock’s retort was icy. If words could kill, Pike would be dead. “I am gratified to know you think of something, if not Miss Kirk.”

Amanda remonstrated him gently, knowing they were heading in the right direction. There was a bit more color in Spock’s cheeks and life in his eyes. “Spock.”

“I honor your presence, Mother,” Spock assured her, “in restraining my words and actions.”

Amanda said nothing more. She knew full well when not to travel down a verbal road. Pike did, too. Stupid people did not make Captain in Starfleet, no matter Spock’s stated thoughts on the matter. 

* * *

Amanda knew they should have followed Spock. They didn’t. The caves were large, and it made sense to cover more ground, as light was fading. That said, they went running when they heard someone yelling, “I have a phaser, and it’s not set to stun.”

They were meters away from Spock, but horrible thoughts raced in Amanda’s mind, even as Christopher Pike was not so alarmed. Amanda turned to reprimand him, when she studied his face and understood that the voice she had heard belonged to Jemima Kirk.

Relief coursed through her blood. 

She looked at Pike. They advanced slowly, entering the darkness of the cave system. Of course she would select the actual mine opening. No one would look here, it was horribly inhospitable and dangerous. Amanda walked slowly towards the mine opening. It had been a small operation that had been abandoned within weeks. There was almost nothing of worth in the small deposits.  

Amanda heard Spock reply, in Standard, “I am a Vulcan, bred for peace.”

Amanda stopped, directing Chris behind an outcropping of rock. Chris insisted, “Shouldn’t we get involved?”

 They were listening. Amanda knew Pike would act as she would, when their children needed them. She just wanted to give them a minute, or as many precious seconds as she might offer. They had waited a long time to be face to face, even though they stood before one another in horrible circumstances. 

Moreover, while Spock could find Jemima in a dark cave filled with dangers through the merest of her exhalations, Amanda could not claim the same talent. They were attuned to one another to the degree even now that the pull between them would guide him safely to her. It was more sensible to let him find her and then join them. She did not want to risk endangering Spock, were he to try to rescue her from some fall or accident in the dark. 

Jemima Kirk replied in flawless Vulcan, “ _K'lof Vuhlkansu ved kup-stau - k'ozhika eh k’yeht-urgam._ ”

Amanda translated gently for a confused Pike, “If there were a reason, a Vulcan is quite capable of killing - logically and efficiently.”

“Bet he’d quite like to kill me, not that I blame the kid.” Pike whispered, pulling out his communicator. Amanda saw that he was messaging Number One. His wife was listed as Number One, even in his personal communicator. Amanda found that fitting, knowing Number One as she did.

Spock inched forward toward Jemima’s voice. Amanda was glad of her vantage point, given that she could hear everything. Spock stepped forward, “I would offer you the opportunity to see me, to observe that I am unarmed, Jemima.”

“Now I’m totally going to shoot you.” Jim’s voice was lazy, as though she had made up her mind to buy a new pair of shoes, “You wouldn’t know my name unless you had a kill list.”

“That is incorrect.” Spock informed his bonded one, seeking her out in the slow sweep of his own torch as he stepped inexorably towards Jemima. He spoke with a gentleness Amanda thought Spock had lost of late, “You are listed as deceased on the rosters. They would not waste resources on a dead person. It is not logical.” 

Amanda just wanted them to admit it. Were her hands not gloved, she would be biting her nails. As it was, she had to restrain herself from grabbing at Pike and jumping up and down. This was a horrible situation, but as three minutes ago, she thought she would soon be burying Spock, she supposed a little elation was not unexpected. She was dizzy, for the first time in months, with the frisson of hope. 

Jim coughed, and spat something on the ground. In that sound, Amanda heard enough. She pulled out her communicator to request medical assistance and doctors on standby. It sounded as though Jim was coughing up blood. 

Still, she found the strength and the wit to challenge Spock, still hiding in the darkness, “I’m not debating logic with a Vulcan who finds it logical to question the reasoning of an armed person who is listed as dead, and is therefore beyond Federation law.”

“My name is Spock, son of Amanda Grayson and Sarek.” Spock’s voice broke, as he continued onward pausing as he spoke to prolong the conversation, “It is illogical to ignore facts you yourself have discerned simply because you doubt the workings of your own mind.”

“Let’s see, Spock. I have a phaser, you don’t. I am desperate, you aren’t. I can see you, you can’t see me. There’s only one way out of this cave.” Jim revealed, and it was very clear that the girl was giving Spock enough of her voice to seek her out, “What am I ignoring?”

“You would have fired without warning had you discerned me to be a true threat, Jemima.” Spock turned and his boots crunched in rocks. Amanda could hear rocks falling, and wondered if perhaps he was crossing an opening, but refused to consider it. “I would welcome the opportunity to further make facts plain between us. I am prevented from doing so owing to the presence of my mother, the Lady Amanda. I would not wish to offend her sensibilities, nor your own.”

Jim’s reply was hesitant, but very, very telling. “Are you blushing, Spohkh?”

“Come and see.” It seemed Spock had grown a bit of a spine in their interactions owing to their mental connection. Despite their circumstances, Amanda cheered them on.

There was a scrabble, and a thud. Spock’s footsteps hastened as Jim spoke, “Nah, I’m good.”

“She can’t come out, because she can’t stand up so good!” A little voice piped up, “She’s been talking to you for ages! If you’re really here, I hope you’ve got chicken nuggets!”

In the distance, Amanda heard a low Terran explication and a very Vulcan response as two forms finally collided in the darkness. 

Light filled the far reaches of the cave. Amanda hiked up her skirts, and began to hasten across the narrow plank that had been placed over the openings of former transport systems. She forced herself not to look down. She forced herself not to think about children crossing this very opening for days. 

Spock’s voice had dropped to a murmur, but when Amanda was close enough to benefit from the light, she saw that he had dropped his forehead to Jim’s, as she stood there, leaning against carved rock, a phaser grasped in her shaking hand, dried blood down her side. Spock didn’t blink as he bracketed Jim with his much larger frame and held her close. Jim’s arms responded in kind with simultaneous synchrony. Around them, stood a group of small children. 

The little voice belonged to a ragged, hollow-eyed, boy of no more than seven. He glanced at Amanda, and stepped forward, “Are you on the kill-list, too? Jim’ll help you.”

Amanda’s heart shattered, “It’s over, honey. It’s all over, and it’s going to be okay. Starfleet’s here to help.”

Even now, Amanda heard the landing of vehicles. Unless she missed her guess, Sarek was approximately a moment away. She never missed her guesses when it came to him. He wasn’t going to let Jim’s care be anything but exemplary from the very start, and he knew Spock to be in a delicate state, especially mentally.

The little boy tilted his slim but not emaciated face, and judged her statement truthful enough. He nodded. “Jim said she’d get me home to Mommy.”

Amanda realized that Jim had kept the children fed at great cost to herself. She was skin and bone, but the kids were in a better state. They were scraggly and worn, hungry and tired, but they had been protected. There had been no one protecting Jim. Amanda vowed that was changing, now. 

The child spread the word as Pike joined her, having sent for support. He glanced at the teenagers, and arched his brows in silent question. 

Amanda assured him, “What you see is a _nartaya_ , Captain. It is a gesture of comfort and unity between two beings. It is frequently displayed after periods of separation.”

Chris spoke, low under his breath, “It looks like a hug to me.” 

“That would be the direct translation into Standard from Vulcan, yes.” Amanda murmured, doing the decent thing and pretending she couldn’t hear the words passing along whispers between Jim and Spock. She blamed her excellent hearing on a lifetime around soft noises. There was no way Chris could hear them. 

 Chris Pike seemed unable to look away, even as they heard the footfalls of medics and Starfleet’s finest. “Jimmy doesn’t do the whole hugging thing.”

Amanda stepped back to go and organize extraction efforts, but not before patting her old friend on the arm in a very human fashion, ““Funnily enough, that’s exactly what everyone says about Spock.”

Amanda turned her back on Spock and Jim, and looked toward the bright spotlights being set up by Starfleet. She didn’t know what Fate had in store for them, but she knew it was very bright indeed. It seemed as though two people had found, through the twists and turns of life, not the partner that defined their fate, but rather the partner with whom they would forge their own path, irrespective of the strictures of culture, society, and what ought to be. 

Amanda found herself thinking of her own mother in this moment, and a single phrase that had echoed across many happy moments. After all, life had taught her that in moments of joy, there was trembling, and in trembling there was joy. She wished Spock and Jim much joy, now that they had experienced the trembling of life. However, she would save her instinctual exclamations for later.

Still, it echoed across her bond with Sarek. As she reached his side, he arched his eyebrow, and cautioned, “Perhaps your congratulations are premature, Amanda.”

Amanda knew otherwise. She responded, her words Vulcan to their very core, “ _Kaiidth_.”

Sarek’s lips tilted upwards. “I concede to your exemplary logic, _k’diwa_.”

Amanda nodded and strode off. She couldn’t wait to hear a similar admission pass from Winona Kirk’s own lips. Amanda had lived amongst Vulcans for decades. That hardly mattered. She was a human mother, something she wasn’t sure Winona Kirk could equally claim. No, Winona hadn’t seen anything yet, not when it came Amanda’s desire to protect her children. 

The Fates would not question her in this, for even they knew better. 

She was Amanda Fucking Grayson.

**Author's Note:**

> I am kicking around doing this story from Spock/Jim's POVs. There's a lot Amanda only sees peripherally. Your thoughts on the matter are most welcome. 
> 
> I did quote Adams Family Values. I see Amanda and Sarek as their Universe's version of Morticia and Gomez. That is, odd to everyone around them, but blissfully happy and self-actualized.


End file.
